


Love in Death

by xXxAngelStormxXx



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10046513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxAngelStormxXx/pseuds/xXxAngelStormxXx
Summary: This story was a request from a user on Fanfiction.net who wishes to remain nameless. It's about an a heavily pregnant young woman, and the angel of death Shacath. It is set during season 2 of AHS. (There are tons of OC's in this story.)





	1. Just a Regular Day

            My breathing is heavy as I come to, and I sit up as quickly as I can. “Ah.” I groan, feeling a slight pain in my side from the movement. Little one wasn’t happy with that, and was determined to tell me so. “Sorry sweetheart.” I sigh, rubbing my swollen stomach gently, “Mama loves you.”

            Taking a deep breath, I move my legs to dangle over the edge of the hard bed. Rubbing my back I shake my head with a scowl. I’m pregnant for goodness sake, couldn’t they at least give me a better bed? The one I have is almost rock hard and it doesn’t help my already aching back any, nor does the thin slip of a pillow.

            My face feels wet and I reach up, touching my cheeks and I realize I’d been crying, tears and everything. I don’t both trying to refrain from sighing, and quickly use my hands to wipe at the liquid dripping down under my eyes.

I sit in the darkness, barely much of the dim hallway light coming in from in between the large bars on the door, just feeling my stomach as my breathing and heart-rate slowly become less erratic.

            The door swings open and the soft dirty light leaks into the room, covering me where I sit on the bed. “Samantha, honey time to go to the common room.” One of the few kind nurse nuns here is standing in the doorway, smiling softly at me.

            “Thank you, Magda.” I return her smile, grateful to be out of the dark for a while. With effort, I manage to push myself off the side of the bed and onto my feet.

            Magda, who is watching me stagger on my feet, looks at me concerned. “Would you like me to grab you a wheelchair hun?”

            “No.” I wave her off, “I’ll be fine. Besides, I want to keep walking and be up on my feet as long as I can. I like the freedom. Also, I would hate to be on bedrest.” She nods, accepting my decision. “I fear the second Sister Jude learns that I ask for it, that I’ll be immediately confined to my bed.”

            “I understand Samantha.” She closes the door, locking it with her key. “However, I do insist upon holding onto you. It’s the most I can do without getting you a chair.” She gives me a pointed look as I waddle.

            Sheepishly I smile at her, “That would actually be lovely. Thank you, Magda.”

            Together we make our way down the grungy hallway and I grimace, hating that my poor darling baby would have to be born here. Here, in this filth. Silently I say a prayer that my sweet child wouldn’t have to grow up here, that I would get out somehow and we would be happy. I know this is unlikely, but this dream, oh this dream, of a happy life outside of Briarcliff Manor with my baby is the only thing that keeps me from going truly insane I think.

            We get to the wood doors of the common room and find myself stopping her from opening them. “Wait.”

            “What’s wrong Samantha? Is it the baby?” She reaches out, puts a comforting hand on my arm, and checks my stomach with the other.

            “Yes. No. yes.” I shake my head, “Please Magda, promise me that if I can’t raise my baby out in the world outside this, this pit, that you’ll take care of my child. If you can’t take care of him or her yourself, find a family you trust. A good home. Please Magda, I trust you, you’re the only person on this planet I trust. Please.” I feel tears start to form in my eyes again as I all but begin to beg her to do this for me.

            “Samantha,” She stares at me, openmouthed. “You can’t be serious.” She blinks at me as she realizes I am indeed serious, dead serious. She sighs, “I’ll do what I can.” She tells me, gently guiding me forward as she opens the doors. Her eyes tell me a different story, they look sad, like I’ve asked her to do the impossible. I suppose in a way, I have. I don’t know if the nurses, who happen to be nuns, would be allowed to have or take a baby and adopt it.

            She helps me over to a small table, and I see little Pepper is already sitting in one of the chairs. She lets out a happy noise and immediately jumps to her feet and tries to be helpful, pulling the chair and my arms a little rougher then she meant I’m sure. “Thank you, Pepper.” I smile at her, she has such a child-like persona. All you need to do with her is be gentle, yet still firm if necessary. “Thank you, Magda.”

            “I’ll be back to take you to your room later.” She squeezes my shoulder before going on her way, continuing her rounds.

            The nightmare still fresh in my mind I try to distract myself once more, and I turn to Pepper. “What game would you like to play today Pep?” I smile, resting my hands on my stomach.

            Pepper claps her hands excitedly and rushes to get a game. At least I can count on her to be exactly what I need right now, someone to care for and do activities with.


	2. Trading Stories with Kit Walker

            It seemed like hardly any time has passed when suddenly the loud room grew much quieter. I furrow my brows as I attempt to shift and turn in my seat to sew whatever it is that has caught Pepper’s attention.

            Before I can stop her, she is up and my eyes follow her as she moves, bouncing between the bodies of other patients until she is in front of a young man, taller than me I think, with light brown or blonde hair, I cannot tell from here.

            That’s when I hear the whispers run through the room.

_“Bloody Face.”_

_“Bloody Face.”_

_“Bloody Face.”_

The words become a hiss in my ears as I stare at the young man. The young man who looks like he’s around my age. The young man in front of me looks neither crazy nor like a cold- blooded killer. But then again, what do I know? I can’t even remember what happened to my husband. Immediately I cringe as nightmarish images flash across my mind at the thought.

Surely, he cannot actually be the notorious Bloody Face, the lady killer I’ve read bits and pieces about in the paper. Just looking at him, he does not look the type to me.

            “Um, is this seat taken?” I hear a male voice ask and I blink open my eyes, shoving away all those nasty thoughts and images, to see the young man in front of me.

            “Oh, no.” I shake my head, “Be my guest.” I wave my hand at it, with a shrug.

            He looks relieved and sinks down into the chair, “I’m Kit. Kit Walker.” He introduces himself, holding out his hand with a nervous smile on his lips.

            “Please, call me Samantha. Sam or Sammy for short.” I smile back at him, hoping it’s welcoming. “So,” I pause, trying to come up with something to say. “May I ask, what did you do to land up here?” I watch his face as I ask my question.

            “Uh,” He rubs the back of his neck and then down the side of his face, a tired look in his eyes. “I don’t actually know if I did what they say I did.” He shakes his head, sadness emanating from him. “They, uh, they think I killed my wife.” He clears his throat, “They think I killed her and all those other women.” Kit looks down and studies his hands which are together on the table, absently picking at his fingers. “I don’t remember what happened. I woke up and she was dead.”

            A wave of sympathy hits me and I place a comforting hand over one of his and he stops, his eyes darting up to me.

            “I’m sorry.” Emotion fills me as I feel the weight of his story on my mind, the similarities within it to others. To my own.

            “So, what did you do?” he cocks his head to the side as he studies me, this complete stranger he’s just poured out some of his pent-up emotions to, his story to.

            “Actually, my story is very similar to yours.” I admit with a sigh, “I truly don’t know or remember what happened. All I know is that when I went to bed my husband was fine, but when I woke up he was lying dead next to me and I was absolutely drenched in his blood. It seemed to cover nearly everything in the room. All I could see was red. I couldn’t escape it.” Words keep tumbling out of me as my eyes lose focus, and I am brought back to the memory of those few days before I was locked up in here.


	3. Remembering the Nightmare

            _Relaxed, I lean back into the mountain of pillows I’ve piled against the headboard and hum in content as I adjust my book which is leaning on my stomach. “Oh, what about Jeremiah or Joseph for a boy?” I smile as I read two names aloud, thinking up possible baby names._

_“Those are nice,” Christopher nods, contemplating them._

_“What about, Koran or Ky?” I tilt my head as I test more names on my tongue. “I don’t know, I kind of like them but, I just don’t know if they’re the one.”_

_“Let me see.” Chris finally sits down on the bed next to me, having just changed into night clothes. “How about Elisa or Ericka for a girl? Do you like those?” He asks as he plucks the book from my open hands and reads aloud two random names._

_“Pretty.” I muse, thoughtfully. “I just don’t know what I want.” I sigh, shaking my head._

_“Come on, let’s get some rest.” he smiles at me, laughter and happiness filling his warm brown eyes. With ease, he sets the book down on the nightstand on his side of the bed and we remove some of the pillows from behind me so that we can both sleep comfortably._

_“Goodnight darling.” He kisses my cheek before turning out his lamp and wraps his arms around my stomach, hands resting where our beautiful baby was growing._

_When I awake again, I can tell it is only early in the morning with how dark the room still is. Turning my head to see the clock I sigh, seeing it only reading four AM. My stomach rumbles and I turn to force myself up to find something to eat._

_I find that something sticky and matted when I move. Slowly I find my feet on the ground and fumble to turn on the bedside lamp, wondering if I’d bled somehow, worried if I had miscarried. It was still relatively early in my pregnancy after all._

_The shriek that follows is unhuman, and it takes me a few moments of scrambling backwards to stop. “Christopher!” I cry, His eyes are wide open and his jaw is slack. Blood, dark blood, stains everything in the room. It pools around him on the bed and coats the walls and floor in trails._

_My heart pounding I yank the phone up from my bedside table and call 911, blubbering and stuttering my words but I must manage to be coherent because the person on the phone tells me help is on their way._

_Dropping the phone I look at myself, and realize I too am covered in his blood and I scream again as I slide down the wall to sit on the floor._

_A shadow crosses my vision and I feel death surrounding me. Only, this does not feel like doom, it feels like sympathy and sorrow. It feels comforting in a way that I don’t know how to describe._

Distantly I can hear Kit trying to get my attention, softly calling my name. “Sam? Sammy? Hello?” But what brings me back to reality is something dark, a shadow I think, that seems to sit in the chair across from me and those same feelings surround me once more.

“Kit?” I blink, and the shadow is gone. Furrowing my brows, I turn to him, “I’m sorry.” I shake my head, forcing myself to hold back tears.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right. What happened?” It’s his turn to put a comforting hand on my shoulder and I relax, glad to be out of that nightmare.

“Just a memory.” I tell him, my voice soft as relief floods my system. “Just my nightmare. A nightmare of a memory.”


	4. Bread Making Duty

            It isn’t until days later that I think about it again. The absurdity of it all really. This sweet boy, bloody face? Not a chance. There’s no doubt in my mind that he is innocent. But what can I do? I am nothing more than he is. Someone who is crazy, who doesn’t remember an important even, someone who has been judged guilty and thrown into Briarcliff, locked up and thrown away the key.

Even if I spoke to Magda, my favorite nurse about it, she couldn’t do anything for him either. Why, nobody could. It was the police and the media who first judged him to be guilty. Everyone else was quick to follow, quick to believe the dangerous and notorious bloody face was locked away forever.

            I contemplate these things as I work in the kitchen, kneading dough on the table. Truly, I do not know how Sister Jude does it so easily. She makes it look like child’s play. It’s remarkable the strength that woman has.

            Pausing I cock my head at the women at the table across from me, she looks as though she’s staring into space. Zoned out. “Allison? Are you all right?”

            Hearing her name seems to break her out of it. “Hmm.?” She blinks rapidly, “Oh, yeah. I’m fine Samantha.” She shakes her head, her choppy, shoulder length blonde hair sways with the motion.

            “You sure? You look rather exhausted.”

            “Yes, I’m sure. What about you though?” She eyes my stomach, “You’re getting close to the end, right?”

            “Yeah, pretty close.” I nod, confirming her thoughts.

            She shrugs and we both continue to knead the dough, the topic dropped and the silence between us resumes.

            Free to my let my thoughts run wild once more, I let my mind wander, my imagination taking over I think about my baby. Will it be a boy? Or a girl? What shall I call them? Where shall we live once I manage to get out of this dump? Should I remarry so that they grow up with a father? What do I tell them if I remarry? I can’t just as well tell them how Christopher died, or that the police actually suspected that I did it. Questions like these flutter in my head, and I try to make sense of it all. One question at a time.


	5. A Short Conversation with Kit

            “So, how was kitchen duty?” Kit’s voice greets me as I enter the day room. My eyes find him as he gets up from the couch and walks up to me, a smile on his face.

            “It was all right I suppose.” I tell him, “But I think Allison was acting off. Have you noticed anything going on with her? She claimed nothing was wrong, but…” I pause, “I just don’t know.” Shaking my head I pass him on my way to the couch. Absently I rub my stomach, feeling the stretch of my skin beneath my thin dress.

            “Allison?” His face scrunches in confusion as he tries to think, and I look back down towards my stomach as he searches for an answer. “I don’t think so? But I don’t really know her, I mean everyone in here seems pretty off ya know?” He coughs nervously after he finishes that sentence, “Except maybe you. Sorry Sammi.”

            I roll my eyes, “It’s all right Kit. I know what you meant.”

            “You sure she was acting funny?” I look back up at him, my hands still running along my stomach slowly, “Maybe she was just tired or something?”

            “Yeah, maybe that was it.” I sigh, “I hope that was it.” Shaking my head I give him a sad smile, “I think my imagination is getting the best of me, I’m becoming a paranoid person.”

            “Aren’t we all at least a little paranoid?” He waves off my concern, “You’ll be fine.” He gives me a wild grin and we laugh, and already I feel much better.

            “I guess maybe it’s true what they say.”

            “Hmm, and what is it that they say?” Kit raises an eyebrow at me, still chuckling to himself.  
            “Laughter really is the best medicine.”


	6. Are You Okay Allison?

            A week later I found myself back down in the kitchens kneading more bread dough. And once again I was working alone with Allison. Now is as good a time as any to ask her if she’s all right I suppose.

            “Allison?” I force myself to get her attention, not wanting to bother her too much by asking again so soon.

            “Hmmm… yes Samantha?” She looks up to me, pausing in her movements, her hands in the dough.

            “I’m sorry, it’s just, how have you been feeling lately? You’ve just seemed, I don’t know, a little off this past week or so.” I admit while asking the question.

            She blinks at me, her blue eyes boring into mine. “I’m fine.” She shrugs, “Maybe I’ve been a bit more tired than usual, I haven’t noticed anything unusual.”

            “Oh, well that’s good that you’re still feeling fine.” I nod, turning my eyes back to the mound of dough in front of me. I begin to knead it again and become hyperaware of the silence in the room. I look back up, green eyes locking on blue, and find Allison is still looking at me strangely.

            “You’re about ready to pop, aren’t cha?” She cocks her head and her eyes travel down to my swollen belly.

            “Um, yes. I suppose so.” I take a deep breath as her stare begins to unnerve me, the look in her eyes unsettling.

            “Who’s going to take care of that darling little baby once they send you off to jail? You can’t raise a baby in there ya know.” She slowly takes a few steps, walking around the island she is working at and towards mine.

            “I’m going to be released. I’m not guilty.” I tense as she takes another step.

            “You really think that?” She snorts, “They’re more likely to release me than you. Even that boy, Kit, or that crazy sex addict Grace have got a better chance than you.” Her voice now sounds crueler than I’ve ever heard from her. She usually sounds so nice and calm, now her voice is enough to make me think she might actually be crazy. “Who’s taking that baby?” her eyes look back up to mine, now they are hard and cold.

            “I’ve asked Magda.” I take a step to the side, still working on my dough. Not sure what she would do if I moved much more than that yet.

            “Oh, come on now,” she sneers, “that old nurse? Really, you might as well just give her to that crazy pin head who drowned that baby. She’d be just as good as dead either way.” She reaches out, a friendly motion with her arms open. Her smile is soft but her eyes still frightening, “You should really just give that child to me. I’ll take good care of the little one, don’t you worry a bit Sammi dear.”

            “Oh, no, I couldn’t burden you with that.” The lie slips through my lips as we maneuver ourselves around the small counter, her trying to get closer and me trying to keep distance.

            “Oh, but I insist. I love babies. Always wanted one myself, but Jared took that from me.” Her eye twitches, memories hitting her. “I had a baby once, a sweet little baby girl. Meredith. She was beautiful. Eyes greener than grass, and silky brown hair. Just like her daddy.” She stops and stares unblinkingly at me. “He took her from me Sammi girl, he took my little Meredith. He cheated on me with that little slut Christine, and when he got her pregnant he left me for her and took my little baby from me. He ripped my whole life apart. They had to go, you understand? Mother’s instincts.” She shrugs, “I knew I had to kill them. But they got me locked up in here before I could. So, that little home wrecking whore still has my good for nothing husband, and my baby girl.”

            “Babies are a lot of work you know.” I tell her, trying to stay calm. “I’m sorry about your Meredith, that must have been devastating.” My hands rest on my stomach, gently stroking the place my own baby was growing.

            “Oh, it was, it is.” Her eyes refocus, “But you’re going to give me your baby.” Her blue eyes look almost dead, void of emotion and I want to flee as she picks up a knife that the orderlies must have not seen left out. “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

            “That’s really not necessary.” I hold a hand up in front of my, now defensively holding my stomach.

            “It is.” She steps forward and my back hits a wall as she raises the knife. I shriek as she lunges, and I manage to duck out of the way but the blade knicks my arm. A trail of blood begins trickling down from the cut as she advances.

            “Allison, stop. Please.” My fingers drip with my blood as I hold my hand out, trying to appeal to her again.

            This time when she lunges she manages to knock me to the ground, and I struggle to try to get her knife. The blade is pressed to my neck and tears stream out my eyes as the blade begins to cut my skin. As I’m shrieking, screaming, and crying for help suddenly she is pulled off of me and is struggling against nothing. Nothing but a shadow. That strange feeling of serenity and death seeps through my body, down to my bones and I can do nothing but stare.

            My senses kick in and quickly I scramble backwards as I watch her shriek now, until suddenly she is still and staring above to the ceiling. “Allison?” my voice is shaky as I call out, slowly crawling forward as I hear orderlies rushing through the hall. “Allison?” I try again, shaking her now as they come into view.

            Both of us are grabbed and I am pulled away from the room, forced back to my own where I am set down in darkness and left there. Alone.

            “What was that?” I whisper to myself, not knowing what on earth I could have just seen. It was the same thing I saw the night Christopher died. Taking deep calming breaths, I lay back down on my hard bed, pulling the thin sheet around myself for comfort. My dreams that night are different than the one nightmare I’d been having for months now. This time, although it still includes the previous events, now also has Allison, this shadow and the accompanying feeling of death.


	7. To Share the True Story

            By the next day, the news of Allison’s death had circulated through the asylum. Everyone knew and everyone had an opinion. In the eyes of many, I was guilty of murdering her even though autopsy proved me innocent. They thought I had caused it, they thought I had done something.

            I sit, curled up on the small couch, cocooning myself protectively around my stomach. And, although she was dead, I was paranoid that she would come back with her piecing blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair. A mess of a woman who wanted nothing more than to take my little baby from me. My paranoia made way for fear and I flinched whenever someone came too close. Even when Kit and Pepper sat down, Grace too. Although, the two of us don’t really know each other I trust her a little bit in part because Kit does.

            “How are you holding up?” Kit asks me softly, carefully moving when he reached out to touch my shoulder, a comforting gesture. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding when his hand came down softly, a feathery touch on my shoulder.

            “I’m all right I suppose.” My voice came out, a choked whisper.

            “You sure?” Grace tilted her head at me, worry flitting across her features.

            “Yeah.” I take deep breaths, exhaling slowly; working to keep myself calm. I don’t want to appear as crazed as the staff and state already think I must be. The two share a look of concern, and I look elsewhere to avoid seeing any possible pity in their eyes, in their expressions.

            “If you don’t mind me asking,” Kit starts, “what even happened down there?” our eyes lock, and words bubble up my throat, but nothing comes out when I open my mouth.

            “Take your time.” Grace soothes, coming to sit on my other side instead of by Kit. I notice her hands rest over her stomach too, and see the small swell of it. My eyes lock onto it and I stare intently, “You-“ I look up to her eyes, a smile tugging at my lips now, “You’re-“ I work to push words past my lips.

            “Pregnant?” She finishes for me, “yeah.” Her brown hair swings as she nods.

            “May I?” I reach forward, but immediately retract my hand before I touch her. I would want permission for someone to touch me, so I want to extend the same courtesy to her.

            “Of course.” She rolled her eyes, and I fully reach my hand to gently touch her belly. Sharing a smile with her I take my hand back.

            “So, you want to know what happened?” I nod, my lips in a grim line, “I was sure that story would have spread like wildfire. That everyone would know.”

            “Everyone thinks they have an idea of what happened, but everyone also thinks you had something to do with her death.” Kit admits in a hushed whisper.

            I close my eyes tight as I shake my head to the side, “No. I didn’t kill her.”

            “Then what happened down there? What happened to Allison?”

            “That crazy girl, she wanted my baby for herself. She attacked me when I didn’t agree to give her my baby when he or she is born. Her husband cheated on her, took her little baby girl Meredith away when he left her for his mistress who he got pregnant while they were still married.” This time the words pass through my lips rapidly, still in a hushed whisper. “She’s locked up because she was planning to kill them, the mistress and the husband. She had me pinned down, a knife to my neck.” My hand reaches up and my fingers brush across where the bandage was. “But something happened. She was pulled off me, but there was nothing there. She was on the floor screaming bloody murder, all I could see was a shadow above her. It was like it was drowning her, suffocating her as it descended closer and closer to her.”  My voice shakes and I fight the tears that begin to fill my eyes.

            “That’s impossible.” Kit breathes, his eyebrows furrowing together.

            “You have to believe me.” I shake my head before brushing my straight brown hair out of my face. “I don’t know what it was, but I’ve seen it before, I’ve felt it before. The night that Christopher died, I saw the same shadow and felt the same sense of overwhelming serenity and death. It’s a strange combination to feel simultaneously.” I look up and into his eyes, “You have to believe me Kit.” Turning I look back into Grace’s eyes. “You have to believe me Grace. Please.” I plead with them, hope they don’t tell me I’m crazy. That I must have imagined it in my fear. I know what I saw. It was real, I can feel it.


	8. Allison's Sister

            Over the few days there were whisperings, whisperings that Allison’s sister was coming to Briarcliffe. Coming to retrieve her dead sister’s body, and to see me. To see the girl that was the last to see her alive, the girl that everyone blamed even with evidence to say otherwise.

            I held my breath whenever the doors to the common room would swing open, waiting to see if she would come to see me. Come after me for her sister’s death. One day, almost exactly a week after the incident she finally appeared. The doors opened wide, and sister Jude, a scowl that she was obviously trying to hide was displayed on her face, looked about the room until her gaze locked on me. “She turned and said something to a woman beside her, a headscarf and sunglasses obscuring and real view of her face. The mystery woman replied before giving her a nod and coming my way. Instantly I tensed up, wondering if this was the sister people had been whispering about all week.

            “Samantha Hodge?” Her voice seemed familiar, even with its chirp and sunny sound.

            Clearing my throat, I answered, “Yes?”

            She nodded, her mouth in a grim line for only a moment before she sat down. Slowly she removed the colorful scarf and black sunglasses. “My name is Denise Bradley. Allison Bradley was my twin sister.” I gape at her, the face of the woman who tried to kill me was looking back at me. Her blue eyes were a shade lighter and her blonde hair was well kept, falling down past her shoulders in beachy waves. Her make-up was light and her eyes sad, and she was a far cry from Allison. It seemed to me that they could have been completely different people from completely different families, but with the same face. Doppelgangers. They say there are like seven people around the world who look like you.

            “Allison.” I blink rapidly, as if that would change her appearance.

            “Yes.” She looks down to her lap, biting her lip before returning her gaze to mine. “I wanted to apologize for what she did to you. My sister was-“She pauses, searching for the words, “a bit off her rocker, crazy if you will.” She waves a hand through the air while she talks.

            I open and close my mouth a few times while I myself try to say something, anything.

            “You didn’t deserve that. And for what it’s worth, I’ve read your file. I don’t think you’re guilty. I’ve seen the shadow you described in the report, I’ve felt that accompanying sense of death, dread, serenity.” She shakes her head, staring into space before blinking herself back to reality. Looking around she leans forward, putting a manicured hand on mine in my lap, “I’d like to help you get out of here Samantha Hodge.” Her voice is low, a whisper.

            My eyes widen, “You would do that?” my chest tightens as I picture freedom. Everything I’d been hoping for, a life outside of these walls raising my little baby.

            “Of course I would.” Her eyes seem kind and they bore into mine. “You’re an innocent girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

            “Thank you.” I manage to whisper out as tears spill form my eyes.


	9. Winters and Waiting

            Over the next few days I sit and wait, trying to be patient. It was difficult though, to be patient when I was so anxious to be out of this place already. To be free once more, just the thought made my heart beat faster in anticipation.

            Finally, she was coming back today, to tell me her progress. I had been waiting, hardly able to think of anything else since she had told me her plans to get me out of here.

            “You think she’s really going to get you out of here?” Kit asks nervously, rubbing his hands together and looking at me with uncertainty.

            “I mean, I think so. She seemed genuine in wanting to help me.” I reply, running my hands along my stomach, creating patterns with my fingertips in an attempt to distract myself.

            “But her sister was Allison, who was psycho.” Grace grimaces, “Are you sure you can trust her?”

            “Yes.” I say, exasperated, “Yes, I’m sure. And besides, what other choices do I have? Nobody else is exactly lining up to help me, they all think I’m guilty.” My voice raises slightly as I continue to talk, anger seeping in. _“We’ve been over this what feels like a million times, yes I’m sure.”_

            They both look down and I realize I had said all of that out loud. In addition to that I had been raising my voice louder than I had thought. Feeling ashamed I look back down to where my hands have stilled on my stomach.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” I apologize in a whisper, I hate being upset with them. They both believe me and want the best for me, they’re not trying to hurt me. They don’t deserve my anger.

            “It’s alright Sammie.” Kit looks at me, his eyes soft as he squeezes my shoulder gently.

            “He’s right, it’s just the hormones.” Grace jumps in, “And we were being a bit pushy I guess.” She shrugs, and rolls her eyes.

            “Hello.” A girl’s voice cuts into our conversation and we all look to see a girl of medium height with shoulder length brown hair. She seems nervous, and doesn’t give me the vibe that says she belongs here. “May I sit.” She gestures to the open spot next to me.

            “Oh, of course. Sammie, Grace, this is Lana Winters.” Kit introduces, “She was a reporter that Sister Jude got locked up in here for asking too many questions, that was it right?” He looks back at her for confirmation.

            “That’s right.” She sighs, taking the seat.

            “None of us belong here.” I sigh, and Grace snorts, “You got that right. ‘Aint nothing wrong with us.”

            “Do you have an idea of how to get out?” Lana whispers softly to us, “confusion in her light eyes.

            “I have someone working to get me out, but we don’t know how to get anyone else out yet.” I sigh, “Denise is looking into helping me, and she’s supposed to come get me. She said she thought she could do it in under a week.” I tell her softly, “It’s only been three days but I’m a bit antsy.”

            “Denise?” She scrunches up her face, “Bradley? Denise Bradley? Isn’t her sister locked up in here?”

            “Well…” I bite my lip and Grace answers for me

            “Ding dong the witch is dead. The mean old witch, the wicked witch. Ding dong the wicked witch is dead.” She sings tauntingly, grinning at us crazily.

            “She’s…” Lana pauses, “dead?” She seems shocked, and I don’t blame her. Allison was in perfect health, except for her mental illness.

            “She attacked Samantha, and something saved her.” Kit explains and I jump in, “One moment she was on top of me, pushing a knife to my throat, and the next she was squirming and screaming, fighting against nothing while on the ground. It was like a shadow was descending on her, drowning her or something, and I felt so cold, like death. And a strange feeling of calm and serenity. The next thing I knew she was staring up at the ceiling, unmoving, unblinking. Dead.” I talk fast, my words tumbling out and mashing together.

            “Oh wow.” Lana breathes. “That is quite the story.” A hush falls over the four of us, I would count five but Pepper wasn’t paying any attention to us.

            “Samantha Hodge.” My name rings through the room, suddenly it all feels so silent apart from that song. That happy, upbeat song that forever seems to play on a loop. Slowly I look up and my eyes find the source, Sister Jude, staring me down with her hawk like eyes.

            I push myself to my feet and keep eye contact, “Yes Sister Jude?”

            “Come with me.” She almost growls the words out and I force myself forward, following her through the hallways and up to her office where I hoped Denise Bradley would be waiting for me.


	10. The Surprise Visitor

            The smile that had been tugging at my lips dropped instantly when my eyes found the person sitting at the chair wasn’t Denise Bradley at all. Not in the slightest. I stop in my tracks and stare at the back of the woman’s head. It was Carin, Christopher’s sister. I hadn’t seen her in years, Christopher had insisted she was dead. I attended a funeral for her.

            She turned her head, blonde hair swinging over her shoulder and her pale skin glinting in the sunlight that filtered through the tall arched windows in Sister Jude’s special office. Her brown eyes shine with life that I hadn’t seen in them since she was attacked. I remember she broke down, she couldn’t function. It was like she was a shell of what she once was.

            “Samantha.” She greets me, relief sounding in her voice.

            “Carin?” I blink rapidly, “I thought you were dead. Christopher, he was so broken over it. We went to your funeral.” My jaw drops as I shuffle forward a few steps, still not believing what I was seeing.

            “What?” Her face scrunches up in confusion.

            “Yeah.” I nod as she stands and I reach out, my fingers brushing her cheek.

            She looks stunned, and disbelieving, “I can’t believe they would- I mean it’s all just- why would they even-“ She stumbles over words, not finishing her thoughts. “I went away for a while, I came here in fact. I just needed some help coping with what happened to me, and both Sister Jude and Sister Mary Eunice helped me get that.” She looks disheartened now, “So, everyone thinks I’m dead?” Her eyes fill with tears, “William? Cora? Sarah? Max?”

            “They were heartbroken. I held them tight at the funeral, they were inconsolable.” My eyes fill with tears now, recalling just how broken her children and husband were. Her small children just wanted their mother back.

            “Oh!” She gasped, and collapsed into my arms. I could feel her tears on my shoulder. “My poor babies. My poor husband. They all think I’m dead.”

            “Didn’t they know you were coming here?”

            “Yes, they knew.” She covered her mouth, muffling some of her cries, “I talked about it with William, and we agreed it was what was best. They were supposed to come visit me, and they did for the first few months. But we found we didn’t want our small children around this too much, and we decided to have them come less.”

            “But, he knew you were here. Didn’t he come to check on you?”

            “Someone must not have known I was here, I had just checked out a couple of months ago, and have been staying with a friend while I’ve been trying to get ahold of them and get back into a job. I need to go back to work.” She shakes her head.

            “Must have been a new nurse or orderly who didn’t recognize your name. Or you had just checked out.” Sister Jude has a concerned look on her face for once as she shakes her head.

            Sinking into the chairs I keep ahold of her hand. “I saw in the paper that you were here. What happened to my brother?” Her glassy brown eyes meet mine and I open my mouth, taking a deep breath.

            “He was killed. I- I was asleep. I don’t know what happened, but when I woke up—“ I cut myself off, covering my mouth with my free hand. “He was already gone.” I finish in a whisper.

            She closed her eyes tight for a moment, processing. “Let’s get the two of you out of here. Okay?” she nods her head and I nod along with her. “That would be great.” I sigh.

            “It’ll take me awhile to get the paperwork and money in order, only a few days I think.” She says, and I can see her mind working on overdrive now. “I’m going to work on brining you home with me. I just need to contact William and then we’ll both go stay with our family, my family.”

            “You should talk to Denise Bradley. She’s also working to get me out.”

            “Denise Bradley?” she nods, “Ok. I’ll look for her.”


	11. What Happened to Carin

            “Sister Jude, would it be possible for my sister in law and I to speak in private?” Carin turns to look at her again and Sister Jude nods, “Well, why not. I’ll come back in about ten to fifteen minutes. How’s that sound?” her smile is sickeningly sweet, and we both nod frantically. “That would be perfect. Thank you so much Sister Jude.”

            Once the door closes behind her she turns to me again. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Sister Jude, since it makes me sound crazy but I think my dear brother was involved in something bad, something dark. Did you ever notice anything?”

            “No, not until the day he died.” I shake my head, “This is what makes me sound crazy. But the night Christopher died, well, when I woke up the first thing I saw was that I was covered in his blood. He was dead, staring at the ceiling. After I called the police I felt this strange sense of suffocating death, and somehow of still being calm and serene. I felt and saw a shadow that moved around the room, I think that had something to do with his death, but I also think it somehow comforted me. It was all very confusing.”

            I watch her face seem to drop and go paler than she already was. “I’ve seen that before.”

            “What?” I stare at her, now my turn to be disbelieving.

            “The shadow, the feeling of death. I’ve seen it and felt it.” She confirms, “It was like two years ago, after your wedding. I was looking for Christopher and his friend Marcus, and I peeked into a room only to see them both surrounded by symbols and candles. There was blood. I hid when Christopher came bolting out of the room, he didn’t see me and he fled down the hallway. He was booking it, he looked pretty frightened. When I looked back in I saw Marcus thrashing, fighting a shadow, and then he was dead. The shadow came out of the room, and it passed me slowly. I felt so cold. But it was calming somehow.” She talks softly, using her hands expressively.

            “What do you think they were doing?”

            “I have no idea, but I looked into his other friends before… the event… and many of them were mysteriously turning up dead. Sometimes it was bloody, sometimes it wasn’t. But I found some strange things in their things, all of them. Every mysterious death.”

            “What could they possibly be doing?” I bit my thumb, trying to think.

            “Time’s up ladies.” The door opens suddenly, causing both of us to jump in our seats. “My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” Sister Jude seems to almost glide into the room, back to her desk.

            “No, it’s alright. You’ve been more than helpful, thank you again Sister Jude. I’ll be back soon Sammie.” Carin tells me, before standing up and being ushered out.

            My mind races a mile a minute, trying to figure out what could they were up to even as I’m led back to the day room.


	12. Finally Free

            The next day Denise Bradley shows up, and I’m told it’s time to go. “I have everything sorted.” She whispers excitedly, “Come on.” She urges, and I’m pulled along through the building. Soon I am all but stuffed into the back of a car, “But what about Carin, my sister in law. Have you talked to her yet?”

            “Carin? Oh yes! Her. I’ve talked to her already, she knows you’re with me. I helped her find her family, and you’ll be joining her shortly after I help get you a little readjusted to being out of there. She and her family are adjusting to her being home and alive. It’s a bit crazy over there, they have enough on their plates for now. But they are still willing to have you come join them, just after a few days or a week or so.” She talked, and I nodded.

            “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

            “It’ll be all right Samantha.”

            Suddenly I remember, “Wait! I didn’t get to say goodbye to Kit, to Grace, to Pepper and Lana! Oh, we have to help them! They’re all innocent, they don’t belong in there either.” The same anxiety I was feeling moments ago bubbles back up and words fire rapidly out of my mouth.     

            “Hey, hey. Relax.” She takes my hands, “Relax, deep breaths. In, and out.” She breathes with me, and I find it working.

            “Thanks, I don’t know what came over me. I just got so worried again.”

            “It’s all right, you’ve been through a lot with those people.” She looks at me with sympathy, “I’ll see what I can do for your friends. Okay?”

            “Thank you so much, you have no idea how much all of this means to me.”

            “Oh, I think I have an idea.” She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back at her. Relief at her understanding and kindness.

* * *

 

            We rode in relative silence the rest of the way. I enjoyed just sitting, quiet being a rarity at Briarcliff.

            My eyes nearly pop out of my head as we exit the car. The house in front of me barely looked to be a house at all. It seemed more like a mansion to me.

            “This is your _house_?”  I emphasize the word, still staring at it.

            “Yes, it is actually.” She admits, an almost sheepish look on her face. “My family has money.” She looks back to the mansion and then to me, “Well, let’s get you settled into a guest room for now.”

            Eagerly I follow her into the massive building, looking around in awe at everything we passed. “I’ll give you a chance to settle in, maybe take a shower, change clothing or take a nap if you feel so inclined before I give you a tour.” She tells me as we come to a door and go inside.

            I walk past her and look around, amazed. The room was spotless and pristine. So white and clean, just as you would expect a rich person’s guest rooms to look.

            “I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of getting some clothes for you. Since I wasn’t completely sure of the size, I got some things in a few different ones.” She admits as she steps around me and opens the tall wardrobe to reveal a bunch of new clothes inside.

            “You really didn’t have to.” I tell her, reaching a hand out to touch the sleeve of a dress. It’s soft material feels amazing and I am astonished by the wide selection of finery, high end clothes.

            “I wanted to.” She reminds me, “My sister was horrible to you, and you didn’t deserve that. I only wish I could make up for it somehow, and I suppose this is me trying to do that.” She looks down, wringing her hands in front of herself.

            “You’ve done more than enough, you didn’t even have to do anything for me at all.” I tell her, taking her hands in mine. “You have an amazing amount of compassion in you, I can feel it.”

            Tearfully we hug each other and she leaves me alone to get acquainted with my new room. No matter how much I love Carin and her family, this room is almost too good to give up. I definitely wouldn’t mind staying here for a while.

            Excitedly I take some clothing and go into the massive attached bathroom. I stare around, still amazed by all the luxury in this house. No doubt I would continue to be surprised, especially during the tour Denise told me she’d give me later. Making my decision I turn the handles on the clawfoot tub and begin to fill it with water. I didn’t feel like a shower, but a bath would be wonderful.

            Quickly the tub fills and I step in, sighing as I sink into the warm water. Clean water and nice soap feeling amazing to me after so long away from basic bathroom supplies. After my bath I wrap a towel around my long wet hair, and relish the feeling of the soft towel as I dry myself off. The plush towels feel like heaven against my skin, especially after the harsh rags I’d been given, rarely given, at the asylum.

            Finally I pull on the clothes I grabbed, a red and white dress. The top half, from above my baby bump, was white and long sleeved. The bottom half was red, and made of a comfortable stretchy material that sort of hugged to my body. It wasn’t in any way restraining, and looked great to boot. I can’t believe my luck, I got attacked by her crazy twin and now she thinks she owes me or something so she’s giving me things and trying to help take care of me.

            I hang up the towels on a rack and brush my hair out. Even though still damp, it looks shinier and healthier than it felt before, with all that dirt and grime in it.

            My smile only grows when I see a vanity, complete with makeup and I immediately go over and sit at the stool in front of it and begin doing my makeup for the first time since I’d been locked up at Briarcliff.


	13. Small Convo With Denise

            Over the next week, I easily adjust to living in the huge house with Denise. Truly, living here is living a life of luxury. I know it must end soon though, as I should be joining Carin at some point.

            “Hey, Denise?” I turn to the woman sitting next to me at the kitchen counter, “Have you talked to Carin lately? I feel like I should get in touch with her, talk about what we’ll need to do to transition me back to their house.

            “Hmm.” She hummed, “No, they’re supposed to get into contact with me soon.” Her light eyes meet mine, “Maybe by the end of the week, I’m still not entirely sure but I’ll let you know when I find out more.”  
            I nod, feeling strangely but accepting her answer for now. “All right.”

            “A little anxious to get back to them?” She smiles at me lightly, before reaching over to squeeze my hands. “Don’t worry, you’ll be with them soon enough.” A nagging feeling tugs at me, but I return the smile. “Thanks again. All of this,” I look around, “Is like a dream.” I tell her. “Yes, I can’t wait to see my family. My sister in law and her family. But I’m also so thankful for you, for voluntarily taking care of me when you had no reason to. I’m glad to call you a friend.”

            Her hands cover her heart, “Awe, you are just the sweetest!” She exclaims. In unison, we slide to our feet before embracing each other lightly, my stomach acting as a kind of barrier between us.


	14. Carin

            I barely noticed when the end of the week rolled around. I was so busy with baby planning that the days seemed to blend together a bit. Denise was more than happy to supply me with everything and anything I could possibly want for my little child.

            After dinner Denise claimed she had some extra errands to run, and told me not to worry that she would be back soon and that it was late anyway, so I should get some rest. Something felt off, and it took me a few minutes of aimlessly wandering the house to figure out what it was. Denise was supposed to update me on if she’d heard from Carin, and she never did. I tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, Denise has been nothing but kind and courteous with me so I had no reason to feel this unease. Maybe it was simply being alone so late in the evening in this big house, I reasoned with myself.

            Pursing my lips, I find myself in a part of the house I’d never been in before, and a door leading to what I suspected was a basement. The excitement of exploring was weighed down by my unease transforming into a heavier sense of foreboding dread.

            Quietly and slowly I turned the doorknob and peered into the dimly lit staircase. “Oh boy.” I mumble to myself as I begin the descent. “This is too creepy.” This looked unlike the rest of the polished and manicured house. It was dirty and dusty, cobwebs hid in the corners that I could see and I peered around the room as I reached the bottom.

            A muffled noise caught my attention and I follow it. My gasp seems to echo in the near emptiness of the large room. “Carin!” I dive forward as much as my stomach will allow, grasping at her gently, pulling the gag from her mouth and attempting to brush dirt from her face. “Carin!”

            “Sammie.” Her voice is raspy from being unused. “Sammie, you have to get out of here.” She grips my arm tightly, panic in her eyes. “You have to get out of here.”


End file.
